Trig·ger
by Jordan Elliot
Summary: Jounouchi has been putting up with his third sibbling for years, unti one day it threatens his life and he is forced to take action. OneShot. Yes Kaiba is in there, but not like that you perverts!


No... not Yaoi... or what ever its called. I dont like that crap... but this is a Kaiba and Jounouchi one shot. I was told that this was really good, so I'm putting it up...

Oh and I dont Own Yu-gi-oh. I do own my Photographs and a brown Blazer.

* * *

"Get out of here you miserable little fuck." I don't ask anymore. No matter what I don't do, I always get caught. I see a gun on the coffee table, I know I can't stay here. But this happens so much. I should really have a back up plan. Well, one that doesn't involve Yuugi anyways. 

"I'm going."

"Shit Head." I walk to my room, grabbing a duffle bag. "Katsuya, get me a beer." I don't ask questions, just get it for him. Walk to the fridge, get one, take it to him. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

"Nothing, I'll be at Yuugi's."

"Like I care." You should care, you're my father. Fathers are supposed to care about there children. I just look at the bottle in his hand. His 'third child' the only one he cares about.

"Take care dad." So he just throws the bottle at my head, he's drunk, so he misses, but he sprays me with the foul smelling junk. "Was that really nessacairy?" Even when faced with stuff like a drunken father, I am still a smart ass.

"Fuck off! Get back inside here!" He may be drunk, but he is still my father, so I must respect him, even if I don't want to. So I close the door, and walk back into the room. "Why do you go and hang out with that faggy little friend of yours?" He doesn't even know Yuugi, but he insults him so.

"He's not 'faggy' he is my best friend. And I would like for you to respect him as such." He may be a drunk, he may be my father… but I hold Yuugi higher than anyone else on the face of this earth.

"Whatever! Get me another beer, you broke my other one." I roll my eyes and walk to the kitchen. "When is the last time you heard from your mother?" Odd, why dose he ask about her?

"I talked to Shizuka last week." No like he cares, why is he asking me about them? He never mentions them. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just wondering what those bitches are up to lately." I slam the beer down on his table.

"That bitch you speak of is my little sister. And you will not talk about her like that." He just reaches up his hand, and delivers a sharp sting to the side of my face. I turn away from him, the impact of his slap sending my hair over my eyes.

"I helped create her, so I shall call her whatever I wish." He created her, and that… is as far as his fathering goes. He hasn't seen her since she was 6. For more than half of her life, she had no father at all.

"Damn good job you have done in raising her." He jumps off of his recliner. He hits me in the eye. I fall back onto the coffee table. I've been beaten worse before, but still… it hurts. I don't know why… but I grab the gun. He hits me again, this time, on the mouth, in the jaw.

"How dare you talk to me like that." He hits me aging, then kicks me. "I'm your father and you will respect me as such!" I kick him, in-between the legs, sending him to his knees. I get up, I grab the gun, pointing it at him. It feels heavy in my hands, I've never held a gun before. He staggers to his feet.

"Your not gonna shoot me. Your to much of a pussy." He's right, I can't shoot him. Its not because I'm a pussy, its because he's my father. He took up the beer bottle, smashing it on the wall, glass shattering. What had been destroying him for years, he has turned on his own son.

I've known my father for almost 17 years, but I've never noticed something about him, he has blue eyes. I know one other person that has blue like his. Suddenly my father changes, his blonde hair is now brown, he's tall, thin, his coat trailing behind him.

I can't shoot my father. But those eyes, I can shoot them.

_**trig·ger**_

_The lever pressed by the finger to discharge a firearm._

It's an empty, terrifying sound. I'm crying. I just killed my father, how could I not be sad. I killed him. I killed him. His blood, its everywhere, everywhere. On my hands, in my eyes. I try to rub it off on my clothes, but it won't come off. It's growing on my hands.

I look down on him, on my father.

"I'm sorry dad." I say that… I mean it.


End file.
